


A Winter's Ball

by MysteryWriter36



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canon Era, Drinking, M/M, Misgendering, Period Typical Transphobia, Trans boy Angelica, he's in the closet, mentions of unsafe binding methods, references to Satisfied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 09:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13808199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteryWriter36/pseuds/MysteryWriter36
Summary: He wishes he were anywhere but this party, wearing anything but this damn corset.





	A Winter's Ball

**Author's Note:**

> I turned this in for my historical fiction assignment. I really hope my teacher doesn't ask questions.

This ball would be the death of him. If the societal pressure didn’t suffocate him, the corset surely would. Even the bandages he wrapped his chest with in those spare moments he had alone were more breathable than the contraption decorating his torso under the dress.

“ _I don’t belong on the ballroom floor, dancing_.” he had whispered to his sister in the dead of night, cradling her as he sat in the rocking chair, watching the moon glow outside the large window. “ _I belong on the field. In a soldier’s uniform. I belong amongst the men_.”

To have finally told someone felt good. Even if he hadn’t told someone who was old enough to understand English.

He was suddenly snapped out of his memories by his mother. “ _Angelica_ ,” she hissed, “You should be socializing! You aren’t going to find a man willing to court you if you spend your night drinking and ignoring the entire party!” she paused, looking around, before turning back. “The general and his soldiers are here. At least try, my child.” she pleads, before walking off.

He sighed. He could feel a headache coming on. It was all too much. It had  _always_  been too much, but in the moment it felt unbearable. And then he saw a soldier approaching him. He reached for another drink. It was certainly shaping up to be a long night.

“Excuse me, madam,” he begins, reaching for a drink, “But you strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied.” The soldier sips his drink, making no move to expand on the bold statement, a confident and pleased look on his face. He’s a little pale, and thin, as is every soldier during each winter of the war.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” he bites out, venom lacing his words with a warning for the soldier. “You forget yourself.”

The soldier shakes his head. “You’re like me.” he insists. “I’m never satisfied.”

“Is that right?” the man asks, turning up his gaze from the glass in his hand to the soldier’s eyes. They’re deep brown and shining and intelligent, distracting the man from the constricting feeling of his corset and even the whole of the party surrounding them.

“I’ve never been satisfied.” the soldier replies, his voice quieter than before. The man realizes it’s because they’ve drawn closer to each other.

The man introduces himself, and the weight of his given name rolling off his tongue brings back that suffocating feeling in his chest, “My name is Angelica Schuyler.”

“Alexander Hamilton.” the soldier responds, pressing a soft kiss to the back of the other’s hand. “Care to dance?”

Schuyler nodded, and ended up spending the night doing the one thing he had planned against; he danced the night away with a stranger.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed this! You can also find me on my tumblr @mysterywriter36


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